


The Opposite of a Banishing Charm

by TeaAndPaint



Series: As the Prophecy Did Not Foretell [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Department of Mysteries, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndPaint/pseuds/TeaAndPaint
Summary: If a human can be Banished, they can also be Summoned. An Accio a day can go a long way. Harry learned that during the Triwizard Tournament and isn't forgetting that now.Harry casts an Accio in the Department of Mysteries.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Series: As the Prophecy Did Not Foretell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590991
Kudos: 74





	The Opposite of a Banishing Charm

Harry likes to think that he's gained some skill from his previous experiences. He's faced Voldemort over three times now, fended off Death Eaters, and fought against magical creatures with both magic and his mind. If there is one thing about his reputation that he is proud of, it's that he is a survivor. He's a survivor, and as a survivor, he will do what it takes to help others survive with him.

When they entered the Department of Mysteries (what a cheesy name! It sounds like a book location!), his senses tingled in high alert. The brain things looked like something out of a space video game that could probably electrocute someone while that archway, the Veil…felt wrong. 

There was no other way to say it. It attracted his magic and called him over. 

The Mirror of Erised had done the same thing. Harry already knew about the dangers of Erised. Of desires.

The Veil was an entirely different thing. That wrongness made Harry whisper, "stay away from that—whatever you do, don't touch it," though he wasn't sure if it was heard or lost to the whispers from the Veil. The chamber was devoid of any signs of life apart from the dim lights and the benches surrounding the dais.

_Don't battle in here, there is no cover. The benches can only do so much._

———

He can only fend for himself as Bellatrix duels Sirius. He rushes Neville out of the Death Room; away from here, with the prophecy. 

"Other pocket, Neville!" he hisses, wary of the hole. "Whatever you do, _don't lose it, but don't let them know we have it."_

Neville nods, a far cry from his usual timid state. He sticks it in his pocket and seals it shut with spell. 

Harry turns, but grabs him. 

_"Molliare."_ A cushioning charm is placed onto the pocket. It might not do any good. But, Harry knows the prophecy isn't just a bargaining chip. It's a weapon. 

He seals the deal with a Notice-Me-Not and Disillusionment Charm.

"Go."

And Neville is gone. 

Harry crawls along the benches, looking for openings. Mad-Eye is out cold. 

"Rennervate," he whispers. There's a small gasp, but nothing else he can detect in the dark. 

_"Rennervate!"_

Mad-Eye shakes as he returns to consciousness. Harry says, "You used a Disillusionment Charm on me at the Dursleys'."

Better to not give him a reason to be attacked. 

The eye whizzes in its socket wildly. Mad-Eye grunts, gets his wand. 

"Good lad. Stay low."

And he goes as well.

Harry crawls. His hands sting.

Lupin is dueling Malfoy. Malfoy is fully immersed in dueling Lupin. 

_Good. Let Malfoy see how Remus Lupin is superior despite who he is._

There's an opening. In the dim light, Harry aims.

He focuses. His magic dances along the length of his wand at his beckoning. There's a warm rush from his arm. 

"Impedimenta!" 

Malfoy is blasted into an unseemly heap. Viciously, Harry wonders if this satisfaction is what Hermione felt punching Draco at Hogwarts. 

He drops, crawls again. Malfoy isn't completely down for the count. He ignores what Lupin says. They're already on it. Harry knows when they have to retreat when he sees it.

He hates how the terrain isn't to their advantage, that the Ministry is corrupt. 

He raises his head and aims again. The Death Eater falls to red. 

Where is Sirius? He needs to find his godfather. Where is his godfather?

Near the Veil. 

He creeps toward the thing he wanted to avoid. He can feel it pulling at him, hear the whispers of his parents. He focuses on Sirius instead. 

Sirius is alive and warm, those aren't. 

Dimly, he hears that Dumbledore or other appears. That can wait. He _needs_ Sirius.

His godfather looks amazing dueling like that. But he's reckless; too reckless. It looks like he's getting too invested in the thrill rather than survival. 

It's like Icarus and the sun, and fighting for Harry is the sun.

Harry feels sick, from battling, from almost dying, from leading his dear friends into a trap. Sirius heightens that. 

The Black madness controls him like a marionette by a puppet master. 

The world slows. Sirius doesn't see the spell coming. But Harry does. 

His hands itch with magic. His ears thrum. His heart hammers in its cage, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He points his wand.

Words fall from his mouth, he hears some. 

_"Accio Sirius."_

Not a request, not a demand, but a command. His magic lashes out, pulls Sirius towards him. A Protego shields his way. 

Harry stares into the eyes of his godfather. His alive, breathing, and warm godfather. 

"We are getting out of here. Leave Dumbledore to his machinations. Whatever they are, you are _clearly collateral damage."_

Sirius is dazed, staring at Harry. 

"...James?"

"No. Harry. Your godson. You almost left me behind."

The statement seems to snap him out of the madness. His shoulders droop in shame. Harry wonders what he himself looks like right now. 

Almost dead, maybe. He has his fair share of scrapes and cuts. He can't make any emotion go to his face. He just feels numb. Battle worn. 

"Go back to Grimmauld. It's not safe."

"Harry, I—"

"Not Grimmauld, then. Hogwarts. Apparate. Portkey. You're smarter than this. Shrieking Shack."

He pulls in Sirius for a hug. Sirius stops babbling. He can't allow himself to cry here. It'd ruin his view of the battlefield. 

"Go, Padfoot. Moony and I need you."

Sirius shakes his head. A kicked dog shaking out its fur. 

"Go. We need to talk later."

The man still isn't leaving. Bloody idiot. 

Harry stuns the person Lupin dueled and accios him over. 

Professor. Moony. Take him." 

Harry stuns Sirius. He keeps his eyes trained on Lupin. Lily, his mother, glares at Lupin through his eyes. 

The bright green must look eerie in the gloomy light.

Lupin doesn't argue. He holds Sirius close and spins.

They're gone. 

Harry looks at the fight and turns to face the benches. He spins his wand in his fingers, a childish trick in a battle.

"Defodio. Defodio. _Defodio! Defodio!"_

He gouges his way out from between the benches. 

The last he sees is a duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort as his head seems to split in pain. 

He makes it to a remaining Thestral, which nudges his head lightly. It curls around him. 

He hides himself with a shaky disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not. Mad-Eye will find him. Or a DA member. 

The pain turns his world black. 

———

He can tell he's at Hogwarts from the bed. He doesn't want to open his eyes. What if a DA member is permanently injured? Or worse, what if someone...

"Harry, no one is dead. Far from it, actually."

The was Hermione.

"You've been sulking for a while, mate. We're all in one piece. More or less. Can't say we're fully healed."

That's Ron, judging by the sounds of unwrapping a Chocolate Frog. Was Ron eating to settle his stomach? Stress? Harry doesn't know, but he is concerned all the same. 

He slowly opens his eyes, half expecting everyone to be at the Ministry. 

But no, the Hospital Wing smells like vanilla and is bright. Open. Friendly. He's home, at Hogwarts.

"You okay, Ron?" He winces at his croak. 

Ron sits at the foot of his bed, munching on the sweets from the pile near Harry's bed. The slight dip caused by the weight of Ron is familiar and comforting. Though everything is a blurry mess, Harry can make out Hermione sitting up at her bed, Neville sitting with Luna, and Ginny leaning past Hermione to read the paper. That's good. Everyone is here. 

"Eh. I'm still a bit scarred from those brains but I'll heal. The welts aren't permanent. And Hermione is okay too. She's on a ten-potion routine but she's going stir-crazy already. Could've been worse."

Ron hands him a Chocolate Frog and his glasses. Harry doesn't want to think about what could have happened just yet. He wants to enjoy being alive with his friends first. The world sharpens as Harry looks at his card. 

Dumbledore. It makes him sick. 

"Neville, Neville, will you do me a favor?"

Neville immediately gets up. Harry is glad to see that he is moving smoothly without any hitches. A full recovery. More confidence too. 

"Can you…" He trails off, but Neville still listens carefully. "Can you burn the card for me?"

After all, Dumbledore never told him about what the prophecy entailed or that Voldemort could use their connection like that. He believes he has the right to harbor a grudge. 

Surprisingly, Neville doesn't question that. He nods like he did at the Ministry and takes the card. He lightly claps his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I've less than positive feelings about him too. My parents, they…"

Harry grips Neville's hand. They both share a quiet moment, silently mourning what could have been. 

Harry grimaces tightly. 

"Yeah. No problem Neville, thanks. We can talk about  _ that _ later." He raises an eyebrow. Neville returns it.

Harry waves as Neville says goodbye, then departs to burn the card as he asked. Neville wouldn't receive that much closure, but it would probably help lift his mood slightly. Harry owes him that much, after being able to get Sirius back. Neville's parents, on the other hand…there isn't much he could do. He can probably fund research with his small fortune. That sounds like a good idea. 

He can't wait to get out of the Hospital Wing. His body aches and his head and magic have damage from being invaded by Voldemort. 

Hermione calls him, saying that the Prophet is now on his side. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, which leaves a warm feeling in his chest. She is offended on his behalf, when he doesn't want to feel anything. He appreciates that. 

"The Prophet is never proclaiming the correct information. Some prophet, right?"

Hermione smirks at his jab and sets the paper down. The smirk stays there, victorious in the wake of the battle at the Ministry. 

Neville returns looking satisfied. Ginny laughs at an obscure reference that Luna makes while Ron and Hermione laugh at Umbridge. 

"A victory, Harry," Neville says firmly. 

Harry turns his head to determine the amount of candy they received, the steadiness of the Hospital Wing, and at his friends. The best friends and comrades he could have. 

He grins quietly, happily, moves away from the void that he had willingly entered during battle. 

"Yeah. A victory."

**Author's Note:**

> Fighting and being mentally invaded is serious stuff. Do not recommend. The prophecy is safely in Neville's magically-keyed trunk :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! I randomly got this idea, ran it by Paint, and off we went! Comments are welcome!
> 
> Next up: Harry confronts his dogged (read: living) godfather about safety and communication.


End file.
